


State of Grace

by Axis2ClusterB



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Twincest, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axis2ClusterB/pseuds/Axis2ClusterB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smecker's been on the outside looking in for a long time now. It's all about the invitation, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	State of Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Set post-BDS - indeterminate gray period.

At least I know what it is that I’m feeling: want. Yeah, that’s it. I’ve got myself a big old case of want, need, lust, desire… I might even go so far as to use the cliché of ‘passion.’

Well, okay, maybe not that one, because it…

Fuck. 

I can’t even be honest in my own frigging head.

Okay, I’ll start over.

-*-

I knew it from the second that I walked into that interrogation room and saw them sprawled there, taking up two chairs and half of the table between them. It was all over both of them – in the way that they touched each other, the way that they communicated more with looks and touches than with words, and I knew that that was what I wanted.

Love like that, and I guess that it is clichéd when I put it like that, but fuck. I watched them and put my finger on it, on what had been missing. Every time I’m out picking up some femmed up little fairy that just wants to cuddle, it’s wanting what they have: rough hands and rough voice and a scruffy face, a body that’s scarred and hard and pressed to mine, a man that’s comfortable inside of it.

-*-

Of course they’re fucking. We all know it, everyone who’s involved, everyone that they’ve brought into the loop in any kind of capacity. 

Well, maybe Greenly doesn’t - he’s pretty dense - but the rest of us? Sure, and it’s just not an issue like it would be if it was anyone but those two, anyone who didn’t fit together like they do. Seeing one of them without the other has the feeling of a fundamental wrong, and I don’t know what they’d do if one of them died. The whole thing would fall apart, I guess, because the strength of the father wouldn’t be enough to drag the remaining half of that whole along.

-*-

I don’t know why it’s shocking to me when I finally do see them together, **really** see them together. The banging at the door in the middle of the night isn’t a shock; it never is. I’m out of bed and down the short hallway to the front door of my apartment before I’m even awake, have the door open before I’ve even looked through the peephole but it doesn’t matter because it’s them, of course it’s them, covered in blood and I can’t tell which is supporting the other.

They tumble past me and I shut the door behind them, bolting it and slotting the chain into place before I hurry after them, finding them in the kitchen. Murphy’s tipped back in one of the hard, straightback chairs, his lower lip clenched in his teeth as Connor prods at a bloody hole in his upper arm, both of them speaking quietly with accents so thick at the moment that I can’t discern if they’re actually speaking English, or if they’ve lapsed into something else. I’m extraneous here; they needed my kitchen and my chairs so I prop my hip against the counter and wait for them to speak to me first, because nothing I say to them right now will even be heard, much less acknowledged. 

“He’ll be all right,” Connor finally says, turning from Murphy and facing me. “Got anything I can give him for pain?”

“Yeah,” I say, going to the medicine cabinet and pulling down a small pill bottle, still almost-full because I never use all of that shit. “This’ll help.”

“Aye,” Connor says, taking the bottle and scanning the label quickly before slipping two pills into Murphy’s mouth. He tries to help with the glass of water, but Murphy bats his hand away, scowling irritably.

“Your father?” I ask, and I don’t even know why I bother because that’s one particular brand of insanity that’s never going to die.

“Fine,” Connor says, helping Murphy up in a move that really ends up in his hauling his brother to his feet. “We’ll catch up with him later, or he’ll find us. We can sleep in your spare room tonight, yeah?”

And so I resign myself to a sleepless night, thinking of the two of them in my spare room, tangled up together and there’s faint light lining their bodies, smoothly muscled limbs tangled up and—

“Smecker? Bed for the night?” Connor’s asking, eyes puzzled as he looks at me. Murphy’s watching me, too, and his expression’s sharp even through the pain glazing his eyes, like he’s seeing straight through me, to the fantasy.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, shaking my head as I start off down the hall, Connor practically dragging Murphy down the hall after me.

-*-

The door to my extra bedroom is open so, you see, it’s all their fucking fault, anyway. If they’d been fucking decent and closed the goddamn thing, I wouldn’t be out here in the hallway now, indecisive in front of the cracked-open door, listening for any sound that I can pick up and I’m so fucking pathetic. 

I take that half-step forward and push the door open, just a little further, and I’ll be damned if it doesn’t seem like I spend half my time staring through half-opened doors at these men. The bed’s empty and I almost relax because they’ve gone early like they sometimes do and I can stop being a dirty old man about the whole thing, and then I hear it. Some soft sigh, rustle of cloth and skin and I tilt my head, just a bit, and I can just see them against the far wall, can barely make out two bodies together, moving in slow unison. I move just a little further, just a little closer and I can see them now in the streetlight shining in through the curtains covering the small window. Murphy meets my eyes over Connor’s shoulder and I can’t even jerk back because it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen from him before, like I’m looking at a stranger. I understand in this moment that if anything from me ever threatens this, the two of them together like this, it’ll be Murphy who kills me, and without the crisis of conscience it would give Connor.

Murphy nods, just a little bit, and it has the feeling of an understanding, an accord of sorts between us. His voice is rough, hoarse with smoke and a long night when he says, “Will you be joining us then, or standing out in the hall all night?”

Connor laughs softly against his brother’s shoulder. Christ, of course they knew I was here. They’d have both been dead a long fucking time ago if their senses weren’t any better than that. 

I look back down the short hallway to my empty room with its empty bed at the end of it, and then I cross the threshold.

I close the door behind me.

-End


End file.
